


Sweet

by surfgirl1



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-15 22:31:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10558778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surfgirl1/pseuds/surfgirl1
Summary: A trip to the store turns into so much more.





	

            “Stiles.”

            “Hmm.”

            “Sti-les.”

            “Hmm.”

            “STILES.”

            “Huh-wha?”

            “Pay attention!” Scott and the Sheriff said in unison like the creepy robots they are.

            Stiles sighed and, reluctantly, put his phone away. He’ll take it out again when the other two are distracted. No big deal.

            Scott and Noah shared a look, before continuing in to the grocery store, grabbing a cart as they went. Stiles pouted, but followed.

            The boys were graduating in less than a week, and were at the store to buy all the necessary food for their Graduation Party. Capital G for Good God It’s Finally Happening. Party. Stile’s father, having the afternoon off, joined them to make sure that there would be red meat for the BBQ part, and not those goddang turkey burgers from last time. Unfortunately for them, everyone else seemed to have had the same destination in mind for their own afternoons, making it nearly impossible to get through to get what they needed. After several minutes filled with car traffic jams, and squabbles over the sodium content of certain items, the illustrious Sheriff had had enough.

            “Alright, boys, that’s it,” he said after a bag of delicious goodness was put back on the shelf to be replaced by a veggie monstrosity. Again. “We’re splitting up. I’m grabbing the burgers and the rest of the meat, no arguing, Stiles, while you guys grab the dessert. We’ll meet back up to get the drinks.”

            With one final glare at the cart and the teenagers, he departed.

            Immediately Stiles got out his phone.

            Scott, rolling his eyes, took ahold of the cart and started off, followed dutifully by his gangly friends, like some sort of giant duckling following its mother.

            Arriving (after much pushing and shoving) in the baking aisle, Scott scanned the shelves, searching for the Triple Chocolate Ghirardelli Brownie box.

            Stiles, scrolling through Instagram, stopped on a specific picture before scoffing.

            “How do people find celebrities at supermarkets?” he demanded. “I can’t even find my dad most of the time.” He squinted at the picture of the famous actor Derek Hale smiling with a fan in front of a line of produce. He shook his head, before frowning. The picture looked odd for some reason, and it wasn’t because of Derek Hale’s perfect hair or adorable bunny teeth either.

            Realizing that he hadn’t heard a reply, he glanced up to find his buddy staring at him with wide eyes. “Scott?” he asked, kind of alarmed. Scott shook his head, still not speaking. “Buddy?”

            A smooth voice spoke from behind Stiles (where Scott was really staring) before he could rush to his friend’s side. “I think you might have better luck if you looked up from your phone in order to find them.”

            Stiles whipped around after jumping, (a little, no screeching at all) ready to respond to this stranger before he stopped.

            Stared.

            Derek Hale smirked at the gob smacked boy, pushing his glasses up his nose a bit.

            Oh.

            _Oh._

 _This_ was why the picture on Instagram looked weird, Stiles thought numbly. Because it was familiar. Because they had passed that section. Because it was taken in this grocery store.

            Stiles shook his head a little, and stuttered out a “What?”

            Derek smiled more fully this time, his bunny teeth showing. “I said, you might have better luck finding celebrities at the store if you looked up from your phone.” He chuckled a little before nodding behind Stiles. “Would you mind moving a bit? I need to grab that.”

            Stiles turned to find that he was standing in front of their coveted brownie mix. The last box of their coveted brownie mix. Which Derek was gesturing at.

            Now Stiles Stilinski was a lot of things, but one thing he knew for sure was that he was sarcastic and full of snark. He also knew that there was no way in Hades that he was going to sacrifice his precious brownies to anybody, no matter how cute their butt was, after they had just made fun of him.

            He quickly snatched up the box before turning back to Derek, who had his hand outstretched and a startled look on his face.

            “Oh, you mean this?” Stiles waved the box in the air in front of Derek’s face, before snatching it back before the actor could grab it.

            Derek nodded, confused.

            Stiles hugged the baking mix to his chest, stuck out his lower lip, and hissed, “I don’t think so.” He nodded sharply, as if that had settled matters.

            Now Derek was starting to look annoyed. “Seriously? Just give me the box.” He stuck his hand out as if he simply expected his order to be followed.

            No way, José. Not today, no sir. Not in this town. Stiles clenched the box closer to himself, before backing up a little. These were his spoils of war, and no stuck up, pretty-boy— “Hey!”— was going to get them.

            Stiles jumped as Derek suddenly stepped towards him, before he let out a squeak and bolted, the celebrity close on his tail. He cackled wildly as he dodged between carts and people, his heart pounding in his chest. Glancing behind him, he could see Derek gaining on him, so he veered down another aisle.

            “Come on! This is ridiculous!” Derek called, sounding not in the least bit out of breath.

            “You’re the one chasing me,” Stiles yelled back, squeezing between two displays before taking off even faster. Through the freezer aisle and the deli, around the baker and back, they went, Stiles quick and agile, Derek strong and determined.

            Three things happened at once to bring an end to the chaos.

            Number One: Stiles tripped, sending the box airborne.

            Number Two: Derek caught up, skidding to a stop before sliding across the tile, tumbling to the ground beside Stiles.

            And Number Three: The Sheriff, who had been alerted to the calamity occurring by a frantic Scott, arrived just in time to be hit on the head with the brownie mix bag which had fallen from the open box.

            It proceeded to burst open.

            Stiles and Derek stared in horror as the powder-covered Sheriff slowly took off his sunglasses. There was a moment of pure silence, before Noah spoke.

            “So.”

            “Sir, I’m so sorry –”

            “Dad, I can explain –”

            A single hand held up stopped the oncoming words, and the two on the floor froze. “Here’s what we’re going to do,” Noah sighed, before smiling a humorless smile.

___________________________________________________

            “This is your fault,” Derek hissed, squirming.

            “Me? I’m not the one who demanded MY brownie mix!” Stiles cried.

            “It was my brownie mix fair and square and you know it!” Derek snapped back.

            “Children, as far as I’m concerned, I earned these brownies fair and square,” the Sheriff interrupted, before taking another bite. He moaned in happiness, and the two on the bench glared.

            It was a sorry sight to see. Derek Hale, up and coming Hollywood star, actor extraordinaire, was pouting. Beside him rested Stiles Stilinski, an eighteen-year old soon-to-be graduate of Beacon High, hunched over with his chin in one hand. His other hand rested beside him, besides Derek’s.

            Their wrists, handcuffed together, clanked noisily as they shifted.

            “Dad, let us out,” Stiles whined, glaring at his evil father through the bars of their cell.

            “Not until you’ve made up,” said Noah, and with a wave of his hand, he left.

            Silence. A sigh. A grumble. An elbow to the side, a glare.

            “Stop moving!”

            “Or what?”

            Silence.

            Another sigh.

            “You know, we could have just… _shared_ the brownies,” grumbled Derek. He was pouting again.

            Stiles turned to stare at him, before barking out a laugh. “You’re trying to get me to believe you’d actually share with me?” he snapped back.

            Derek turned to him. There was an odd look on his face. “Um, yes? I’m not evil,” he huffed, rolling his eyes.

            Stiles opened his mouth, then closed it. He blew out a breath, before trying again. “So, what, we would just split the brownies?” he asked, incredulous. How could he suggest something like that? The brownies were the manna of the Gods, they were!

            Derek snorted. “You do know you said that out loud, right?”

            Stiles blinked, before blushing. He had, hadn’t he. Curse his lack of filter.

            Derek smiled at his expression, before looking at their hands. He sighed. “I’m sorry.”

            “Huh?” Stiles gaped, unsure if he had heard him right.

            Derek rolled his eyes again. “I _said_ I’m sorry,” he repeated. The smile on his face grew softer. “It’s just…my mom always made me those brownies,” he admits. His eyes look far away, seeing something that Stiles could not see. “I wanted to make them for her birthday,” he murmured. “She would always add even more chocolate chips to them and make them whenever something important happened. Good grades, passing a driving test, birthdays, whatever, she used to make them all the time.”

            Stiles listened with a growing sense of shame. He loved the brownies, sure, but…

            Looking back at Derek, he was caught in the stare of his eyes. They were kind of beautiful, really, he thought to himself. You couldn’t quite tell what color they were. It was as if they were changing from moment to moment.

            Oh crap, Derek was blushing. He had said that all out loud again, hadn’t he?

            “Thanks,” Derek whispered before Stiles could attempt to fumble through an apology.

            Stiles nodded, blushing himself, now. Holy crap what was going on?

            “If you want,” Stiles began, “you could come to my graduation party. For the brownies,” he added hastily, his eyes widening. “I-I meant, that’s what they were for. You don’t have to. Its fine. Oh, god please don’t kill me –”

            Soft lips pressed against his cut him off, and Stiles could only gape in surprise as Derek leaned back. There was that smile again, Stiles thought dazedly. The one that showed his bunny teeth.

            Derek laughed. “Maybe I can help you make them,” he said with a wink. Stiles almost melted.

            “Hem-hem.”

            They jumped apart guiltily, nearly banging their heads against the wall behind them. The Sheriff looked on in amusement, before pulling out a key and opening the cell.

            “Derek, you’re free to go,” he said as he unlocked their handcuffs. “And your sister called,” he added. “She said something about missing an event?”

            Derek winced, before straightening up. He glanced at Stiles. “I have to go,” he muttered. There was a pause, and then he walked towards the door.

            Stiles stared at his back, unsure of what exactly had just happened.

            “Well?” said Noah.

            Stiles jumped before turning to his father. “Well what?” he asked, unsure.

            His dad rolled his eyes towards the heavens. This kid of his. “Go after him!” he ordered, waving his hand in the direction that Derek had disappeared.

            Stiles blinked, before doing as he was told. Behind him the Sheriff muttered, “Kids these days.”

            “Derek!” Stiles yelled, scrambling out the front door of the station, tripping slightly over his feet, and looking around. “Derek!”

            “Yeah?”

            The voice came from right behind him, and he jumped. (There was a screech that time.)

            Derek stood there in all his glory, his hands in his pockets, his sunglasses on his head, a beautiful grin lighting up his face and exposing his pearly whites. Stiles had never seen anything more breathtaking in his life.

            “Stiles?”

            He blinked, realizing he was staring. “Um, I was wondering…if…if you –”

            Derek reeled him in and kissed him.

            _Kissed_ him. Kissed _him. Kissed him._ There, in the parking lot of his dad’s station, with -oh god- his dad and all his deputies grinning through the window, smelling like a jail cell. He kissed him.

            “Yes,” Derek murmured. “I would love to see you again.”

            Stiles, grinned, before leaning back in. “You taste like cocoa powder.”

            “Shut up, Stiles.

 

           

           

           

           

 

 

 

 

                 


End file.
